Halibut Sorbet

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Three Bedouins and a Tribunal

PALACE BUNKER: INT: DAY

Bunker is furnished like a Boardroom. 3 Saddam Husseins, an Iraqi General and a Concubine in a burkha sit around a large meeting table. Two guards stand to attention in the background, between them hangs an Iraqi flag.

AID : It's Saddam. He's in the infirmary. He sliced off his finger whilst chopping Shallots

[Points to left hand]

One of the guards steps forward. It's a Robert Mitchum lookalike. He holds a wicked looking 'YAKUZA' knife. Flicks the blade with the ball of his thumb.

MITCHUM : Shall I play mum?

All 3 Saddams thrust their left hands into their trouser pockets.

SADDAM 1 : If I lost a few pounds I could do Charlie Chaplin. [Holds his left hand to his chest protectively]

SOUND OVER: [CRASH !!!]

The front end of a Cruise Missile appears through the wall 'PRESENT FOR SADDAM', written in black on the side.

The Concubine removes her Yazmak... It's a Meg Ryan lookalike

MEG : You got mai...ail !!!

ALL SADDAMS : [Pointing at each other] It's for him.

S/O: [BOOM]

3 Saddams and half a Robert Mitchum exit crator left

END

Scene 2

HAGUE COURTROOM: INT: DAY

3 Saddams stand in the dock, a small contingent of NATO representatives sit to the left. Various Courtroom officials are in position around the room. The judge presides

JUDGE: Saddam Abedneggar 'Lucille' Hussein. You stand before this court accused of War Crimes, Genocide, Breach of NATO resolutions and flicking bogeys at David Mellor on a trip to Baghdad in 1988... How do you plead?

SADDAM 3: [Turns to Saddam1] He's talking to you

SADDAM 1: [Stabs Saddam 2 in the chest with his finger]. You told him to say that

SADDAM 2: [Scouse accent] Hey Lah, wot's wiv the finger, Cum 'ead

Saddam 2 dances around trying to headbutt Saddam 1

DEFENCE LAWYER: M' Lud! I call for a mis-trial. We can't try three men for the crimes of one

PROSECUTOR: A suggestion Y' ronnor. It's known that the real Saddam has an abnormally large Todger. I simple comparison might solve the problem.

One of the NATO contingent stands and addresses the Judge

U.S. REPRESENTATIVE: If I may speak M' Lud? Saddam Hussien can't be identified by the size of his Wibbledy Wand. It's contrary to NATO agreements on U.S. foreign policy.

The Crystal Skulls

The water, falling in droplets from the numerous stalagtites, beats a constant tattoo like some natural, ritual, torture. The L shaped cave isn’t large but the acoustics seem to hint at depths unseen. At spaces that, maybe, don’t exist solely in this dimension. And what dimension is this, exactly? How did you come to be here? You don’t recall an entrance or a tunnel of any type.

A cursory inspection leads to the inescapable conclusion that this must be a dream or some out of body experience. No way to get in, no way to get out. It seems real enough, the caustic ammonia tang, of Bat guano, a pungent explanation of the crunchy yet slime treacherous footing. The water, of course, the perceptible chill of ancient rock, provides all the sensory evidence of existence you need.

The thought occurs that something must be lighting the way. Reaching the corner you turn into the adjacent leg of the L to find a roughly hewn, stone table. The table holds 3 perfectly fashioned crystal skulls of various, ethnic design.

Amazingly, the skull on the left speaks,

LEFT SKULL: God, I need a shag

RIGHT SKULL: Don’t be stupid, flatface, you can’t shag. You don’t have the necessary equipment.”

The skull in the centre, larger and somehow more refined than the others, answers in a patronising tone.

CENTRE SKULL: Speak for yourself, I can "shag" anyone I choose. I’m a multi-dimensional entity

RIGHT SKULL: That’s just it, you stuck up sod! It has to be a communion of minds. A meeting of souls

Sunday, August 14, 2005

The War on Saddam

The War on Saddam.

Sally Vator : War Correspondent

23/03/2003

As you may have noticed by now, coalition forces have invaded Saddam. Two nights ago, crack troops crossed over the border from a neighbour, probably Mrs Hassan from number 34, and made their way up his left trouser leg laying siege to the strategic port of Nee Qap.

Acting on information received from a mole on his left thigh, the troops executed a daring raid up his Ali Men Tari canal in an attempt to 'decapitate' him. It isn't certain if the attack was successful but considering there is still evidence of bodily processes it seems unlikely.

Due to the nature of the campaign the number of troops are restricted but we are doing all we can to administer humanitarian aid, possibly a paracetamol or two.

Aid workers have been warned that Saddam is known to have produced dangerous chemicals, such as adrenalin and a particularly lethal form of Methane Gas. Special care should be taken around the twin towns of Bue toqz and the Anul Sphin Qatr ring road.

The War on Saddam, News update 24th Mar

Sally Vator : War correspondent

24/03/2003

Following initial reports of easy progress the allies have met stiff resistance while trying to penetrate Niq ur el Astiq.

A full frontal assault on the Wire Fronts was pushed back when it encountered a huge warhead hidden in thick shrub surrounding an area known locally as the Pu Biq region.

The Anul Sphin Qatr ring road is now open again causing several gas alerts in the early hours of the morning, our reporter confirmed.

In the south, aid is being held up, by pockets of resistence, around the Ankh El Soq penninsula. Troops fear that after a lack of activity in the area that residue from the long walk taken by Saddam last thursday may make progress hazardous... Gas masks have been issued to aid workers in the area.

The War on Saddam, News update 25th Mar

Sally Vator : War correspondent

25/03/2003

Several 'crack' troops are feared missing after they entered Gunjib Umm Fluph on the outskirts of Anul Sphin Qatr today. Although Saddam is thought to have a hidden supply of Andrex it seems he hasn’t used any yet.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

The End is Nigh

GODS OFFICE: INT: DAY:

God sits at a cluttered desk in a swivel chair. He wears loose fitting robes and a necktie hangs loosely around his throat. A large bank of TV monitors, showing various regions of the world flicker behind him. A plate on his desk reads, JHWH – C.E.O. Afterlife LTD. The intercom on his desk buzzes

SOUND OVER: [BZZZZZZZZT]

GOD: Yes Mary?

MARY: Lady Di to see you ,sir.

GOD : Good send her in will you.

The door opens and Lady Di Spencer, dressed in sweat pants and shirt, breezes into the room and flops down in a vacant chair

DI: Hi JH! Just dropped by for a chat.

GOD: [looks over to the drink’s cabinet], Good, I’ll get the kettle on.

DI: No thanks, can’t stay long. I’m on official business, Chair of the Sufferers Union.

GOD: Damnation!!!

DI: That’s what I want to talk to you about. The conditions down there are appalling. All that Brimstone lying around, it’s against C.O.S.H.H. regulations and the latrine facilities are non-existent. Human Resources are having a fit.

GOD: I didn’t know they were down there. No-one tells me anything since the business went corporate.

DI: They aren’t down there, silly. They want to see some improvements in working conditions, that’s all. Oh! The fire regulations state that at least two fire extinguishers and a fire blanket should be available per 100sq feet as well.

Mobile phone rings

S/O: [ electronic ‘oh come all ye faithful’]

GOD: ‘Scuse me a minute, Di

He reaches into his robes and pulls out a flip phone

GOD: Hells bells! How do I answer this contraption?

DI: It’s the button with the green icon.

GOD: That’s technology for you.

he holds the phone, gingerly, away from his ear

GOD: Hello, God here… Ah, it’s you Peter. What is it this time?

He pauses whilst Peter speaks

GOD: Oh Christ, Jehovah’s Witnesses???

Another pause

GOD: No… No… Send ‘em next door to Allah. That should be good for a laugh. He loathes hawkers. Ok, see you at lunch… Oh and Peter? Keep me posted will you?

He folds away the flip –phone, can’t resist the temptation to flip it open again

GOD: [Into the flip phone]. Beam me up, Scotty!!!

He remembers Di

GOD: Ahem, now where were we, ah yes, fire regulations?

DI: Yes, you don’t need me to tell you what will happen if the inspector fails you on fire regs again?

GOD: Another fine?

DI: No, he’ll close the facility, you’ll have to relocate.

GOD: He can’t do that… Where will we put the Lutherians? They can’t go in with the Scientologists, there’d be a bloodbath!!!

DI: He won’t care about that. Holy wars are your department.

GOD: By Thor’s golden hammer, how much is it going to cost? We’re already over budget for this quarter.

DI: Leave it to finance, they have their ways.

GOD: Ah! It was all so much simpler in the old days. A bit of Smiting here, plague of seagulls there, it all got sorted out one way or another.

DI: You have to move with the times JH. People these days want to see some features and benefits or they’ll turn to your competitors. It’s all about PR and Marketing.

GOD: I suppose… I can leave it with you then Di???

DI: Can do. Right I’m off for some colonic irrigation.

GOD: What IS that exactly???

END

ALLAH’S GATE: EXT: DAY:

Two Jehovah’s Witnesses, clutching pamphlets, are walking towards a large Golden Gate (two broad, ornate, lattices supported by a pair of arms which hold crossed scimitars). They are approached by two, burly, Saracens who wear Kevlar BPV’s. They are armed with Gold plated AK47s The Saracens stop at a portable barrier which has been erected across the driveway.

SARACEN 1: That’s right we have a coach load of suicide bombers arriving at 1600 hrs. Ossama Full Trashcan’s lot..

JEHWIT 2 : Is that a problem? I mean, surely they wouldn’t bomb Allah?

SARACEN 1: They can’t help it, it’s in the training, as soon as they see a closed gate it’s out with the semtex and faster than a Hassari with a Pashtun girlfriend it’s, wam, bam, salaam mam. Habit of a lifetime… Well, what there was of it.

He throws a cigarette stub to the floor. Stubbing it out with the butt of his AK

JEHWIT 2 : I thought they got welcomed with open arms.

SARACEN 1: Don’t be daft lad… We have Mohamed (pbuh) in here, and the place is full of Sunni Delight. Ossama’s lot go off at the slightest provocation. Ain’t that right Abdullah.

ABDULLAH: Too true, Hassan. It’s the detonators, very sensitive to spoof trade names. Mohamed (pbuh) drinks Sunni D by the gallon. He’s famous for his drinking ‘round these parts is our Mohamed (pbuh)

It’s a fine summer day. The moulting thistledown clings to the weave of your Chino’s as you push forward, through the scrub, towards the stand of trees ahead. As you near the copse you hear the rustling of robes, the squeak of a wheel sorely needing oil. You smell incense. Several carrion crows rise from the trees, caw-cawing in indignation. Endorsing a sharp noise that disturbs the calm air like a harbinger. PHWAAAP! It recalls the noise made when a good driving wood strikes the tee, fair and true. As it should recall the noise, for that is exactly what you just heard. Follow the ball through the air… No… BE the ball.You slam through the air. Picking up speed as gravity loses its jealous grip, slides away to mumble in your slipstream. You leave the ground behind as you accelerate. Had you lungs, you would scream them raw with the joy of it. Had you lungs you would gasp for breath as the air fans out around your tight, dimpled, skin, evading the greedy attempt to imprison it within. Exuberant, you thrust blindly upward, like a chance deflowering, into the clear sky.

It won’t be a long flight by any standards. You are already reaching your climax, your apex. You are already failing. Your momentum spent as gravity, victorious after all, reaches out to reclaim it’s own. Reaches out to claw you back to solid ground.

You feel the crosswind now. You dip and swerve, buffeted by the currents that, only a moment ago, you sought to consume. There is a flag down below. You arrow towards it on your descent. Homing in on the dark pock where it meets the fine, green, turf. Rebounding slightly between the pole and the back of the hole, your pristine, doomed, flight comes to its natural end. You nestle safely in the damp sod… PLINK !

Snap back to the stand of trees…

You hear voices on the other side

VOICE 1: Will you stop doing that?

VOICE 2: Doing what?

VOICE 1: That… It’s cheating, we’re on the tenth hole and THAT is your tenth ‘hole in one’

VOICE 2: I’m sorry but you don’t seem to understand. I’m the Almighty. It can’t be any other way for me.

VOICE 1: Pfah!!!

VOICE 2: It’s true, one thing the vanquished find it hard to accept is that perfection has no free will, no choice. It is what it always has been and what it always will be… Perfect.

VOICE 1: Vanquished is it? Just because you threw me out doesn’t mean I can’t do hole in ones, you know. It’s just that I choose not to. Ruins a good round.

VOICE 2: That was my point, it isn’t my kind of game.

VOICE 1: What is?

VOICE 2: Solitaire, maybe patience.

VOICE 1: Ok, let’s talk business, what do you want?

VOICE 2: The Fire Inspector is coming at 4:30 today. We have a consignment of extinguishers and blankets arriving at 4:00. Can you see them distributed as per regulations?

A Halibut is a type of fish. Sorbet is a frozen dessert similar to a frappé, sometimes made from fruit juice and having a mushy consistency. In this case the Sorbet is made from the juice of a Halibut. The illustrated book, 'How to Juice a Halibut', by Master B. Atrix, is available from our online bookstore.

Latest Edits

20 Aug - 3 Bedouins - 3rd scene added

18 Aug - Only one - More script added.

18 Aug - Proverbs - More added

16 Aug - Only one - Script started.

About Halibut Sorbet

It's an experimental comedy blog on which contributors can help develop ideas for comedy scripts and sketches (as long as they pay Enocia a shitload of money and fondle Kahdoosch's knee. Oops!!! got that the wrong way around).

PS. Only the most recent post is shown on the main page. Please use the 'PROJECTS' menu to browse blog. Ta doo!!!